


a friend indeed

by crookedfingers



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Female Ejaculation, First Time, Friends With Benefits, Penis In Vagina Sex, Pre-Canon, this is precisely a suave and sexy as first-time sex generally is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-17
Updated: 2016-10-17
Packaged: 2018-08-22 22:28:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8303521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crookedfingers/pseuds/crookedfingers
Summary: “Well, it’s real nice to see you, Fareeha,” Jesse says, “but I’m sorta naked right now.” He gestures to the sheets puddled over his lower body and sticks one bare leg into the open to demonstrate.Fareeha looks at his leg. “Oh, that’s good,” she says, impassively. “I think we should have sex.”Jesse’s entire life flashes in front of his eyes. It’s short and ugly, for the most part.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This work is set a point wherein everyone is a legal adult and no one is dead, which is right here on the timeline. *points at a timeline that just says "what the fuck"*

Jesse McCree is asleep when the door of his room opens. The sound of the hinges and the brief illumination from the hall wakes him immediately, but he doesn’t move. He knows there’s someone in his room. The intruder doesn’t breathe heavily and doesn’t walk heavily, but he knows how to listen when he needs to. The intruder walks toward the bed. If they come within arm’s length, he can probably catch them off guard. If they intend to shoot him from a distance—well, then, it’s been nice being alive.  
  
Jesse is lying with his back to the center of the room, his face tucked into the pillow. He dares to open his eyes so that they can adjust while he has the chance. The intruder stops directly beside the bed, right behind his head. If he's going to do anything, well, he needs to do it right about _now_.  
  
Jesse explodes upright and turns, lunging for the figure beside his bed at the exact same time the intruder says, “Boo!” He doesn’t have enough time to react to what happens next. He’s still in mid-motion when Fareeha Amari slams her palm into his forehead, grabs and twists his outstretched arm, and flings him from his own bed onto the floor. He’s subsequently buried by a landslide of bed sheets.  
  
“What the Hell, Jesse!” Fareeha gasps from the other side of his bed-sheet tomb, in which he has expired of shame.  
  
Jesse flounders until he gets his head free, sputtering. “What the hell, yourself! Y’almost broke my nose!”  
  
“You almost tackled me!”  
  
“Why were you sneakin’ up on me?” he bellows.  
  
“I _didn’t_ sneak up on you—I said ‘boo!’”  
  
“That’s what people say after they’ve _snuck up on someone_! Why didn’t you knock?”  
  
“It was a surprise!”  
  
“See—that’s called sneakin’ up on someone!”  
  
“Well who did you _think_ I was!”  
  
“I don’t know—someone who ain’t supposed to be in my room!”  
  
“What— That’s not—”  
  
Fareeha has had enough. She darts forward to grab a handful of the sheets and flings them back over his head. He swats himself free only for Fareeha to wind another section of the sheets into a loose rope and wrap it around his neck. Jesse shakes her off and grabs her leg in retaliation, hooking his arm around her knee, but she pivots free and bounces out of range—and then she sits herself down on the floor and starts laughing. Jesse manages to keep scowling at her for about four more seconds before his face cracks and he bursts into laughter, too. There’s no good reason for it, but they can’t stop. Every time one of them comes close to calming down, they catch one another’s eye and break down again, and Jesse’s stomach and ribs ache by the time they’ve exhausted themselves with laughter.  
  
“So what’s goin’ on?” he manages to ask at long last, wiping water from his eyes. “Is everything all right?”  
  
Fareeha Amari has been given the entry code to every room Jesse McCree has stayed in since the beginning of their friendship a good number of years ago, no matter whether they were both even on the same side of the globe. Outside of missions, Fareeha has an unconditional invitation to visit him at any time, though it’s been more than a year since she’s actually come to his room. It used to happen regularly: a pleasant and reliable part of his week. Fareeha has come to his room to do homework on the foot of his bed. She’s done push-ups on the floor while Jesse slept through the pain of torn shoulder muscles. And Jesse spent hours teaching her card games (and how to cheat at them), and how to smoke without coughing, and how to whistle through her fingers. And sometimes he sat quietly and rubbed her shoulder when she put her head down on her bent knees and cried about things she couldn’t tell him. But Fareeha stopped crying about things a long time ago, and eventually she stopped visiting him, too.  
  
He's happy to see her here, but Fareeha Amari almost always has a reason for everything she does.

“Everything is all right,” she says, but she looks at the wall as she says it. “I just wanted to see you.”  
  
“Well, it’s real nice to see you, Fareeha,” Jesse says, “but I’m sorta naked right now.” He gestures to the sheets puddled over his lower body and sticks one bare leg into the open to demonstrate.  
  
Fareeha looks at his leg. “Oh, that’s good,” she says, impassively. “I think we should have sex.”  
  
“Y-you what? You what?”  
  
Fareeha’s face tightens up with embarrassment. “You heard what I said.”  
  
Jesse’s entire life flashes in front of his eyes. It’s short and ugly, for the most part. He manages to say, “Your mother would _kill_ me.”  
  
“She’s away,” Fareeha says simply.  
  
“ _Commander Reyes_ will kill me! _Morrison_ …”  
  
Fareeha thinks about this. “Jack won’t kill you.”  
  
“Well, he’s the one I’m least worried about!”  
  
She gives him a somewhat pitying look. “You don’t know him very well, do you?”  
  
Jesse puts both hands up and waves them back and forth, signaling for a time-out. “Now let’s just take one step back here. What’s goin’ on, Faree? Why’d you ask somethin’ like that?”  
  
“Nothing is ‘going on!’ I just want— I mean, I think I’m at an age where— I just want to try, okay? Why do I have to explain?”  
  
“Why do you—?” Jesse sputters. “Alright, alright, alright—hold on here—help me understand all this crazy talk. Why are you _here_ and not with someone else?”  
  
She looks at him blankly. “Like who?”  
  
“Like someone your own age, for example!”  
  
Fareeha shrugs. She’s looking at the wall again. “I don’t know. None of them impress me.”  
  
Jesse groans and puts his face in his hands. He rubs at his eyes and temples. “Y’know what, I think I was wrong about somethin’. Commander Reyes and Ana wouldn’t kill me: they’d keep me alive to use as an example. Reyes’d hold me while your mother punched. They’d coordinate a whole damn routine. I want you to imagine that for just one minute.”  
  
But Fareeha just scoffs. “Why would that happen? How would they find out?”  
  
Something in Jesse’s mind sharpens and focuses. All at once he can see through to the core of this decision. Fareeha Amari, a soldier’s daughter, has a flawless record of discipline and personal conduct. She’s exemplary at everything she does, and she’s never—well, she’s never been _caught_ with a foot out of line. She doesn’t want any rumors to go around, and, more importantly, she doesn’t want to embarrass herself in front of anyone whose opinion she values. Jesse takes his hands from his face and narrows his eyes.  
  
“You’re askin’ me because I won’t brag about it,” he observes shrewdly.  
  
“That’s not true!” Fareeha says. “That’s not the only reason!”  
  
“Oh, Heavenly Father, help me,” Jesse groans, covering his eyes again. “My own dear friend, whom I have known and cared about since she was just a babe in diapers—”  
  
“You have not, shut up!”  
  
“—cares nothin’ about my feelin’s at all,” he continues, louder, “and only wants to use me for my beautiful and sensual body, despite the endangerment to my life.”  
  
Jesse peeks out from between his fingers and sees Fareeha with one hand poised in the air, like she can’t decide whether to give him a reassuring pat on the shoulder or punch him. She decides on a punch. She hits him gently, but Fareeha is a very strong girl—woman—and the little jab still jostles him against the side of the bed.  
  
“Stop it,” she says, and Jesse uncovers his eyes. “I’m not going to _force_ you. I didn’t think you’d argue so much, though.”  
  
“My contrary nature is one of my chief appeals,” Jesse says brightly. “Well, c’mon up here, sweetheart, and let’s talk about this.”  
  
He gathers up the heap of sheets, clutching them tightly around his waist, and stands up to turn on the table lamp. Then he sits down at the head of the bed, his back to the wall. Fareeha takes off her shoes and then climbs onto the bed, as well. She’s wearing a little shoulder bag, and she sets it aside and sits there cross-legged in front of him. One of her legs bounces up and down, an old nervous habit that Jesse hasn’t seen for a long time.  
  
“I really don’t have much to say,” she mumbles. “I’ve never, um, had sex before, and I want to try. That’s all.” She finds a stray thread sticking out of his sheet and starts to pick at it, tugging it loose bit by bit. Then she winds it around her finger and snaps it with a swift tug. “But you don’t try to prove that you’re better than me or try to make me feel stupid, so.”  
  
“Sweetheart,” Jesse groans, covering his eyes again for a few seconds. “I don’t think this is a good idea.”  
  
“So you don’t want to?” Fareeha presses. “Why not? You think I’m not mature enough?”  
  
“Er, well. I know you’ve got a good head on your shoulders, Faree. But I want to make sure you’ve really thought this through.”  
  
“I don’t want to be your _girlfriend_ ,” Fareeha says derisively. “It’s just sex, right? That’s not a big deal, right? You don’t act like it is.”  
  
_I’m a terrible role model_ , Jesse thinks with vivid horror. “Er, well, everyone feels differently. It’s important to some people, and, er.”  
  
“Well, I already told you what I think. So do you want me to leave?” Her eyes flicker across his face, searching his expression for clues. Her jaws is very firmly set.  
  
A lot of Jesse’s life has come down to moments like this: sudden crossroads between two bad choices, and down one of the paths lies death. And so Jesse does what he has done during every single one of these situations: he takes the thing being offered to him.  
  
“You don’t gotta leave,” he says. “But you can if you want. Anytime.”  
  
“Fine.”  
  
Since there’s nothing else to be done, Jesse takes the first step down this new, unmarked path he has chosen. “So, uh. How do you want to start? Do you want to, ah, kiss me, or…?”  
  
Fareeha eyes him doubtfully. “I don’t know. You have a lot of… hair.”  
  
Jesse reflexively touches his chin, rendered somewhat self-conscious. “Hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but I’ve got hair on more than just my face.”  
  
“Yes, I can see that,” Fareeha says, looking at his chest, and Jesse remembers that he’s very much naked and emotionally ill-prepared.  
  
“Well, ah, if it bothers you that much, we probably ain’t gonna get very far with anythin’.”  
  
“I can kiss you if you want,” Fareeha says, shrugging. And then she lunges forward, and suddenly her mouth is smashed up against his. It’s a closed-mouthed kiss, and Jesse’s lips twinge with pain where they’re pinned between two sets of teeth. Fareeha’s eyes are screwed shut, her brow furrowed. Jesse lets her assert her dominance for a moment, and then carefully touches the tip of his thumb to the corner of her lips. She flinches a little but doesn’t relent, and Jesse gradually works the thumb between their mouths until there’s the smallest amount of space between them, just enough so that he can tilt his head and offer a softer brush of his mouth. Fareeha pauses and draws back a little, like she’s trying to process the purpose of this maneuver, and then she drives back against him with all the same force as before. Jesse chuckles, unable to help himself. That gets her to back off. She eyes him anxiously.  
  
“Why are you laughing?” she demands.  
  
“It ain’t a fight, Faree. C’mere and let me try.” He tugs her gently forward by the back of her neck, head canted sidewalks, and nudges her mouth with his. Her lips are slightly parted now, and her breath puffs against him. He mouths at her bottom lip and the corner her mouth, light and slow. Fareeha doesn’t react at first, and then she pushes back against him very firmly. Jesse snorts back another laugh.  
  
“You’ve never done this before, either?” he asks when he draws back, just to be sure.  
  
“I don’t know anyone who’d be nice to kiss,” Fareeha says, frowning. “Am I doing it wrong?”  
  
“Well, that all depends on who it is you’re kissin’, but I’d recommend bein’ a little, ah, softer.”  
  
“Softer,” Fareeha repeats, disdainfully. “Fine.”  
  
She leans forward again, hesitates as she remembers to angle her head a little so their noses won’t collide, and then draws her lower lip over his mouth. Jesse gives an agreeable shiver.  
  
“Just like that, sweetheart,” he murmurs. “That’s good.”  
  
But then Fareeha leans back and wipes her mouth. “Okay, is that enough? Are you ready to continue?”  
  
Jesse’s brain labors to catch up. “Uh. Continue?”  
  
“Yes. With having sex.”  
  
Jesse sighs and slumps back against the headboard. A little romance is too much to expect, apparently.  
  
“I guess we can… try somethin’ else. I ain’t got a condom, though, so…”  
  
“Oh, I’ve got things.” Fareeha picks up the little bag she set aside earlier and extracts from it a small first aid kid. She places it on the bed between them and opens the lid. The inside of the kit is stocked with a bottle of lube, a roll of condoms, a pack of band-aids, disinfectant spray, a miniature bottle of water, and protein bars. Jesse stares at the kit, and then he starts laughing.  
  
“What kind of sex do you think we’re gonna be havin’?” he wheezes.  
  
“I don’t know: the normal kind!” Fareeha snaps. “I’m just trying to be prepared.”  
  
“You always impress me,” Jesse says warmly. “Do you want to, er, take off any of your clothes first?”  
  
Fareeha gives this idea a moment of thought. “I want to see you first,” she decides. She places the first aid kit down on the floor and then looks at him expectantly.  
  
“Er. Like, uh?” He makes an indistinct motion over the sheets covering his lower body. Fareeha nods. She tucks her legs under her body and waits for him to do something. Well, it’s a fair request. So Jesse grabs the edge of the sheets and draws them aside. Fareeha’s eyes drop between his legs immediately, and Jesse has never been shy about nudity or embarrassed about his body, but it’s all he can do not to cover himself up with his hands. He’s already started to go a little bit hard, more due to nerves than anything else.  
  
Fareeha looks him up and down, her head tilted. “Hm. Can you keep going?”  
  
“Uh. Meanin’ what, exactly?”  
  
“You know.” She makes a suggestive pumping motion with one of her hands.  
  
Jesse actually feels himself blush. “Only ‘cause you asked so nicely, sweetheart,” he croaks. Some kind of gut instinct tells him that he needs to be willing to endure vulnerability to prove that he’s worthy of the vulnerability that Fareeha is showing him. If he’s too embarrassed to touch himself, then Fareeha will think there’s something embarrassing what she’s doing—what they’re doing—and she won’t trust him to know any other embarrassing things about her. And so, in the name of true friendship, Jesse very nobly begins to stroke himself hard.  
  
It’s surprisingly easy. He closes his eyes and doesn’t think about anything. It’s just manual labor, same as anything else.  
  
When he opens his after a few moments, Fareeha is still watching him with her mouth slightly open. Jesse licks his bottom lip and winks.  
  
“What do you think?” he asks, voice pitched low.  
  
Fareeha’s eyes flick up to his face. “I don’t know. What do you want me to say about it?”  
  
“Uh, er. You know, that’s… you know, never mind, forget I asked.”  
  
By way of an apology, Fareeha grabs the bottom hem of her shirt and peels it off over her head. Her hair fluffs out from static, and she smooths it back down with both hands. “There, now do you feel better?” she asks, but she doesn’t quite land the bravado she was aiming for.  
  
Jesse has never really thought about what Fareeha looks like. She was the cutest damn kid he ever saw, and he was generally aware that she’d grown up pretty, but he’d never imagined her naked. It wouldn’t have been decent. But right now, in this moment, Fareeha Amari is a goddamn sight to behold. She grew up taller than him, with thick, muscular arms and a firm stomach. She’s wearing a plain, soft gray sports bra—apparently she didn’t feel the need to dress up for the occasion at all—but the curve between her waist and her hips is the nicest damn thing he’s seen in a good long while.  
  
“Damn, sweetheart,” Jesse breathes, leaning his head back against the wall. He gives a low, approving whistle, and Fareeha struggles not to grin. “Let’s have a look at them guns. How much are you liftin’ these days?”  
  
Fareeha gives a quiet little laugh, the kind she uses when she’s flattered but trying not to show it, and flexes both of her arms. “More than you!” she says with confidence.  
  
“You’re fuckin’ with me. Prove it! C’mon, pick me up!”  
  
“What?” Fareeha drops both of her arms and laughs again. “Not when you’re naked!”  
  
“C’mon, lift me!” Jesse insists. He swings his legs off the bed and stands up, beckoning Fareeha to join him. “Try a back squat.”  
  
“Are you crazy?” Fareeha laughs. “I don’t want to lift you!”  
  
“It’ll be fun!” Jesse leans forward to try to pull Fareeha up off the bed, but she shoves him back with one outstretched leg. He twists aside and dives forward again, trying to grab her around the middle, but this time Fareeha’s ready for him: she latches onto his arm and drags _him_ toward _her_. Jesse’s feet slide uselessly over the floor, and then suddenly he’s flat on his back in the bed with Fareeha leaning down over him. She’s holding both of his wrists down.  
  
“I know what you’re doing,” she says.  
  
“Oh? What’m I doing?” Jesse asks innocently.  
  
Fareeha narrows her eyes. “Stalling.”  
  
“Why, I would never— _mm_.” Jesse can’t finish defending himself because Fareeha leans in and puts her mouth against his, this time actually moving her lips instead of just crushing his mouth into submission, which is nice. And when he tries to raise his hands off the bed, she keeps them pinned down, which is… also pretty nice, actually. Jesse struggles a bit, just to see how much he can, but Fareeha doesn’t give him an inch.  
  
Then she pulls back and says, “Okay, how do you want to have sex?”  
  
Jesse blinks up at her, dazed. “Uh, how… do… What?”  
  
“You know.” She lets go of one of his hands and makes a vague motion, like she’s trying to pluck a word or phrase out of the air. “Like the… position.”  
  
“Oh, that’s. Uh.” Jesse has to close his eyes to think. He rubs his palms against the sheets; his hands are sweaty. “I s’ppose… if you’re on top? That’d be best? That way you can sort of, um, control the, um…”  
  
“Okay.” Fareeha swings herself off him and begins to shimmy out of her pants. Jesse, for his part, simply begins to sweat profusely. She hesitates when she gets to her underwear, but she pulls them down, too, and then she’s naked except for her bra, and Jesse is also naked, and he’s still hard, and, fuck, this is actually a thing that’s actually going to happen. Fareeha throws a leg over his hips and kneels above him. Then she pauses, thinks about something for a second, and bends down to retrieve the first aid kit from the floor.  
  
“Condom,” she says, flicking one of the packets at his face. He snatches it out of the air before it can hit him.  
  
“Right,” he says faintly.  
  
He doesn’t know what else to do, so Jesse just rolls the condom on without any fanfare and braces his cock. His hand is shaking a little.  
  
“Alright,” he says in a voice that sounds strange and distant, even to himself. “Now you’ve just gotta sorta… sit.”  
  
Fareeha nods vaguely without looking him in the face. “Sit,” she repeats. “That’s simple.”  
  
She lines herself up—and then Jesse quickly brings his other hand up and touches the outside of her hip, very lightly. “Hey,” he says. “I know you want to go through with this, but if you want to stop—any time—even for just a second—just say somethin’. Okay? Or… pull my hair, or whatever’s easy.”  
  
Fareeha summons up a little smile. “Or bite your nose.”  
  
“Right,” Jesse agrees, nodding. “Or twist my ear. Or give me a nice good punch right under the ribs.”  
  
“Absolutely,” Fareeha promises. She smiles at him for a second longer, and then takes a deep breath and nods, like she’s making a resolution to herself. “Okay. I’m going to sit now.”  
  
And she does: one hand planted on the bed and the other braced on the center of his chest, her thighs tensing up as she slowly lowers herself. Jesse has to look up at the ceiling to keep his nerve. But Fareeha doesn’t get more than inch before she stops and says, “ow, wait, stop.”  
  
“You’re the one who has to stop—I ain’t movin’!” He pats at one of her legs and peers into her face. “Y’okay?”  
  
“Um.” Fareeha lifts herself up again and closes her eyes. “It just hurts a little. I know that’s normal, but…”  
  
“Er, well, I wouldn’t say that’s normal. It shouldn’t hurt if you’re, er, if you’re ready.”  
  
“What do you mean, ‘ready?’ I am ready!”  
  
“No, I mean, this is your first time, so you might need to be more… relaxed?”  
  
“I am relaxed!”  
  
“No, no, I mean—” Jesse sucks in a breath and lets it out through his nose. “Okay, how many fingers do you usually use?”  
  
Fareeha just looks at him. Jesse thinks _oh, no_. He clears his throat. “I mean, how do you usually, uhh, get yourself off?”  
  
Fareeha shrugs, her mouth thinned out. “I don’t know. I guess I just use my hands to, you know. Or, um. Rub against something, or…”  
  
“Alright, alright. Well, I’m askin’ if you, y’know. Would like some help. If you, uh, want a hand.” He holds up one hand in front of his face and waggles his fingers meaningfully.  
  
Fareeha looks at his fingers like she’s never seen a human hand before in her life and quite frankly isn’t sure what to make of it. “Oh,” she says after a moment. “Do you… want to?”  
  
Does he _want_ to? Does he want to eat three meals a day? Does he want to _breathe_?  
  
Jesse loves to touch. He loves feeling people tense and twitch under his hands; he loves strong arms and strong legs and sweat and hair and scars; he loves to push and to pull, and to _be_ pushed and pulled. Give him a pretty thing like Fareeha Amari and he’d be glad to have her thighs around his face for as long as she’d let him. He’d finger her until his fingertips wrinkled, and he’d be _grateful_ to do it. But Fareeha came to him to request a service, not for some kind of messy marathon romp, so Jesse shrugs casually and says, “I wouldn’t be opposed.”  
  
“Okay,” Fareeha says. “Should I lie down?”  
  
“Whatever makes you comfortable, sweetheart.”  
  
Fareeha looks like he has no idea what in the world would make her comfortable, so Jesse pats the mattress next to him and says, “C’mon and make yourself cozy.”  
  
Fareeha lowers herself, a little stiffly, until she’s lying on her side next to him. He puts a hand around the back of her knee and pulls until one of her legs is bent up. The lamp light catches a little shine of wetness on the inside of her thigh. Jesse runs his hand up her leg, starting at the knee. But before he gets all the way to the top, he has a thought, and he rolls aside to pick up the first aid kit. The bottle of lube is completely full and unopened—but, mortifyingly, his hands are too sweaty to get a grip on the tiny, smooth plastic cap. He bites the cap to twist it open.  
  
“That’s not how it opens!” Fareeha snatches the bottle away from him. She rubs the little teeth indentations he’s left in the plastic cap, her expression reproachful, and then touches the top of the cap on one side. The other side of the cap pops up.  
  
Jesse says, “Oh.”  
  
“If you don’t know how to do something, just ask!”  
  
Jesse just _barely_ manages not to laugh. “Okay,” he says soberly.  
  
Fareeha seems to interpret his facial twitch as one of embarrassment, because her expression softens sympathetically as she hands the bottle back to him.  
  
Jesse douses a couple of his fingers in lube. He almost asks Fareeha if she’s ready, but that seems a bit condescending at this point. So he just parts the hair between her legs and eases a finger into her like it's the most normal thing in the world.  
  
Fareeha’s shoulders twitch a little.  
  
“That alright?” he murmurs.  
  
“Oh,” Fareeha says, blinking. “That’s it?”  
  
“No—that’s—I’m just gettin’ started!” Jesse huffs. “Hold your horses, it ain’t a magic trick.”  
  
He curls the finger a little and slides it nearly all the way out, then back in again. The lube makes everything smooth and easy; some of it gathers around the base of his finger and runs down his hand and onto her leg.  
  
“Alright, that felt pretty easy. I’m gonna go ahead and add another one.”  
  
Fareeha nods. She’s staring at his shoulder, her pupils all big and out of focus.  
  
One at a time, they progress up to three fingers, and Fareeha ends up with her face tucked almost into the crook of his neck as Jesse pumps his arm. Fareeha’s hips jerk a little with every push, and Jesse is terribly, miserably hard. He thinks about how nice it'd be to roll her onto her back and drive his fingers into her until he made her come; how nice it'd be to slide down her body and work his tongue in next to his fingers. But, instead, he just keeps up a steady pace with his hand until she's panting into his ear.  
  
“You know,” he says after awhile, “it’s okay if you just want to do this. This is plenty nice for me.”  
  
Fareeha raises her head, then firmly grabs his wrist and pulls his hand away. “No,” she says, with remarkable steadiness. “I’m ready now.”  
  
Wasting no further time at all, she pushes herself upright and slings a leg over his torso. But Jesse says, “wait, wait,” and fumbles around for the first aid kit.  
  
He tugs the old condom off, drops it straight onto the floor, and puts on a second one. He nods to signal that he’s ready. Fareeha tucks a bit of hair behind her ear as she lines herself up over him. There’s a pause, and Jesse tries to think of something pleasant and reassuring to say, and then without any warning Fareeha sinks down onto him all at once, and both of them gasp when he bottoms out completely.  
  
“God _damn_ ,” he groans, thumping his head back into the pillow. “You okay, sweetheart? That was fast.”  
  
“Ow,” she says faintly. “That still hurt.”  
  
“Well, yeah, that weren’t exactly careful! Does it still hurt right now? Are you bleedin’ or anythin’?”  
  
Fareeha touches between her legs for a second and then squints at her fingertips. “I’m fine, I think. Just… don’t move for a minute.”  
  
So Jesse grabs fistfuls of the bedsheets and very carefully _does not move_. Fareeha shifts around a little, readjusting her legs for comfort, but doesn’t really make any effort to get into the spirit of things. Jesse grits his teeth every time she moves. He’s sweating into the bed. After awhile he cautiously asks, “How’s it feel?”  
  
Fareeha looks thoughtful for a moment. Then she says, “It’s alright.”  
  
“It’s alright,” Jesse repeats dully. He flings an arm over his face and sighs. “Fareeha, I’ve been injured in many ways, but no one’s ever wounded me like you.”  
  
But Fareeha just snickers, utterly heartless, and pats his chest. “It’s not my fault all your feelings are stored in your dick.”  
  
Jesse uncovers his face and glares. Fareeha flicks his nose.  
  
“I just meant that that I thought I’d feel something, um, happening,” Fareeha goes on, a little uncertainly. “But it just feels kind of strange.”  
  
“Well, I told you, it ain’t a magic trick. You’ve gotta— sorta— put in some work to make it feel nice. You know? Here, c’mon, you ready to try movin’?”  
  
“I guess.”  
  
So Jesse settles his hands on her hips and coaxes them gently back and forth, encouraging her into a slow, steady rocking motion. She breathes in with a series of little hitches, her mouth shivering.  
  
“Oh,” she says. The mattress creaks as her knees push against it for leverage. Jesse groans a little and rolls his hips in counterpoint.  
  
Christ, she feels good. Jesse could be happy just lying back and letting her use his cock for as long as it takes her to get herself off like this. But he has a solemn duty to perform, so he braces his feet on the bed and lifts his hips up to meet her. Fareeha takes in a single, sharp breath through her nose, and Jesse dips one of his hands low on her stomach and thumbs lightly at her clit. Fareeha’s thighs twitch.  
  
“How’s that? Feelin’ better now?”  
  
“A little,” she breathes.  
  
“Alright, alright. Now try usin’ your legs, yeah, just like that...”  
  
He brings both hands to her waist and tugs up, and Fareeha lifts herself a few inches. Then he gives a little push, and she sinks down all nice and smooth. Her legs clamp against his sides.  
  
“Oh,” she says again.  
  
Jesse strokes his hands up and down her hips and thighs as Fareeha starts to move on her own, rising and falling in surges. She’s got strong legs, and she picks up a faster pace easily. Jesse manages to watch her for awhile, and then he has to turn his face away. Seeing his cock pumping into her is too much.  
  
But Fareeha notices and slows down a little. “What?” she asks, uncertainty edging into her voice.  
  
“Nothin’,” he says hastily. “You just look real nice.”  
  
Fareeha snorts at him, like she thinks he’s just flattering her to distract her from what he really thinks. “Well, you can close your eyes if you want,” she mutters.  
  
“Well, I don’t want. What I _want_ is for you to keep doin’ exactly what you’re doin’.”  
  
He punctuates it with a harder motion of his hips, and Fareeha says _oof_ , her hair falling out from behind her ears, and she covers her mouth with one hand to stifle a laugh.  
  
She doesn’t seem to be in pain, and she’s still rocking on him without any sign of strain, so Jesse starts putting his back into it, pulling Fareeha’s hips against his. She makes another noise down in her throat, and her head tips forward until her hair has covered her eyes. She grabs his forearm and squeezes.  
  
“Good?” he rasps.  
  
“It’s… better.”  
  
Jesse laughs and says, “Fair enough.”  
  
He raises the arm that Fareeha isn’t already clutching and touches the bottom edge of her bra, sliding the very tip of one finger under the band. He looks up at her face for a reaction.  
  
Fareeha is looking down at his hand, down at herself. She doesn’t react for a second, and then she seems to decide that there’s no reason to hide this part of herself when she’s already riding him into the bed, so she grabs his wrist and deliberately moves his hand onto her breast. Jesse hooks a thumb under the band of her bra and tugs it up until it’s bunched under her arms, across the top of her chest, and the smooth, perfect curves of her breasts spill out underneath. The center of her chest is damp with sweat.  
  
He palms the pleasantly soft, heavy weight of one breast. “You’ve got nice tits,” he says reverently.  
  
To his utter surprise, Fareeha actually laughs. “Yours are alright, too.”  
  
“Even though they’re hairy?”  
  
“Well, you can always fix that.”  
  
Jesse shrinks down into the bed as much as possible. “Don’t threaten me like that,” he whispers.  
  
To his even greater surprise, Fareeha leans down and kisses his forehead. “Sorry,” she says.  
  
She smiles at him, and he smiles back at her, and Jesse feels warm through his chest and the back of his neck. He wants this to be good for Fareeha: not just something that she won’t regret, but something that future partners won’t be able to surpass without appropriate effort. So Jesse braces his legs and gives it to her with everything he’s got. And then for a while neither of them can really talk: they're both breathing hard, and Fareeha is biting down on her lip, and the wet sounds of Fareeha being fucked are making Jesse’s entire body thrum. His mind dissolves. Everything is reduced to sound and smell and feel, no higher thought to it beyond _Fareeha wants this _.  
__  
And then Fareeha’s composure falters. She misses a beat in the rhythm they’ve kept up, and her knees tighten against his sides. She gasps, “Je — Jes—,” and then all of a sudden she folds completely forward until her face is almost flat against the pillow next to his. She grinds herself against him, her hips jolting back and forth. Her breasts push against him as she ruts onto his hips. She clutches his shoulders, and her breath disintegrates into ragged gasps beside his ear. Her thighs begin to shake wildly, but it’s Jesse who groans, “fuck, fuck, fuck” as Fareeha comes on top of him, going tight and tense all over.  
  
Suddenly, Jesse feels wetness between them, and Fareeha sits bolt upright, a hand clasped over her mouth. Her eyes are huge and horrified. She leans back, but Jesse holds onto her waist and says, “wait, it’s okay, wait,” and keeps moving his hips.  
  
Fareeha’s hand falls away from her mouth. Her head rolls forward; she grips his shoulders, nails digging into the skin until it stings. Now her hands are shaking, too. She tightens up around him, and a stream of liquid flows over Jesse’s hips in pulses. Fareeha gasps, and gasps again. Her back arches.  
  
“Christ, Faree,” he groans, feeling his thighs and belly tense up.  
  
He’s _this close_ when Fareeha suddenly slams both of her palms down on his chest. It doesn’t hurt, but the sound makes him jump; he lets go of Fareeha and she lifts off him, then flops over sideways. Jesse nearly sobs. He's so desperate to get off he can feel it in his _teeth_. He tears the condom off—and he comes right right then and there just from that touch, a sudden and unstoppable crest, but he strokes himself through the shock until his eyes water and it hurts to keep going. Then various fluids drenching his body start to cool, and his skin rises into goosebumps.  
  
He sits up and looks at Fareeha, and Fareeha looks at him, and they don’t say anything for a little while.  
  
Then Fareeha says, “Did I just pee on you?” in a dim, bewildered whisper.  
  
“Sort of. That’s normal.”  
  
“That’s _normal_?” She stares down at the bed sheets. “How does anyone sleep afterward? Your bed is all wet.”  
  
“Yeah,” Jesse agrees, because what else is there to say about it? He uses a corner of the sheets to wipe at this hips and thighs. “I’m kinda hungry. Can I have one of them energy bar things?”  
  
Fareeha wordlessly hands him the first aid kid, and he takes one of the protein bars, and so does she, and they pass the water bottle back and forth while they eat.  
  
“This was a good idea,” Jesse mumbles when he's gotten down to the last mouthful of his bar. “I gotta keep some of these around.”  
  
Fareeha glances at him for a second and then looks out across the room. “Thank you,” she says.  
  
“Yeah, well, sorry for laughin’ about it earlier. Just never had anyone show up with a whole kit before.”  
  
“I meant for agreeing to do this,” Fareeha says, looking back over. “I had a good time.”  
  
“You did?”  
  
Fareeha laughs. “You sound surprised."  
  
“Er, no! I’m not. Surprised. I mean, uh… what do you want to do now?”  
  
Fareeha puts her legs over the side of the bed and shuffles her feet against the floor. She jerks her leg away when she accidentally brushes one of the discarded condoms. “Honestly? I just want to sleep. I need to be awake at six hundred, and I’m starting to feel kind of…” She makes a vague wobbling motion through the air with a hand.  
  
“Mm, yeah. I’ve got drills in the mornin’, too. Do you need any help gettin’ home?”  
  
Fareeha rolls her eyes at him. “Have I ever needed help? Anyway, do you want us _both_ to do the walk of shame?” She pushes herself off the bed, gathers up her clothes, and starts to redress. Jesse looks away when she bends over to put on her underwear and pants.  
  
A moment later she re-packs the first aid kit into her bag and settles it across her shoulder, and then she’s standing there fully dressed and without any sign that she has ever spared a single thought for debauchery. Jesse, still naked, smiles blearily at her. He can't believe that she wants to be his friend.  
  
“Maybe I’ll see you next week?” she asks.  
  
“That’d be real nice.”  
  
Fareeha comes forward and kisses his forehead very quickly and lightly. “Good night,” she says. And then she’s gone, slipping out of his room as quietly as she entered.  
  
Jesse sits there for several minutes, not doing anything at all. Then he turns off the lamp and tucks himself into the dry section of his bed, drawing the sheets around his shoulders. He might as well try to get some sleep. If death is coming for him, he’d prefer to be well rested when it catches up.


End file.
